


Forward Motion

by Lise



Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Jaenelle is totally ticklish, Missing Scene, Siblings, forgot how much fun this series is, there are probably other tags for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-23 00:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Lucivar had ever dared to think about what serving Witch might be like, he didn't think he'd ever have imagined anything like this. Set during Heir to the Shadows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forward Motion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [goldperson](http://goldperson.tumblr.com), who requested sibling fun times with Lucivar and Jaenelle. Writing this fic also has me doing a reread of this series for the first time in years, and remembering how much I love it. Which is...kind of a lot. S'a good series. 
> 
> The scenes in this series that are just the family relationships, and particularly Jaenelle and Lucivar giving each other a little bit of the childhood neither one of them really had, are some of my favorite bits. I hope I brought a bit of that to this. I also hope I'm not too rusty with voices here.

Lucivar remembered, on the rare occasions when he and Daemon were together, when they could speak and they weren’t ripping each other apart, they’d talked about Witch. What they would do for her. _Anything,_ was what it always came down to. _I’d do anything. To serve her. To love her. Anything she asked._

Any humiliation or debasement. Anything at all, if only, if only-

His heart gave a pang. They hadn’t thought of this. All their dark and perverse imaginings, their worst fears of what she might ask of them (or worse, not ask), and never…

“Lucivar!” 

He jerked back to the present, drawing himself up straight as though he were in training all over again. “I’m paying attention.”

Jaenelle frowned at him. “No, you weren’t.”

“All right,” Lucivar admitted, and arranged his features to look as contrite as he could manage. “I wasn’t. Are you going to punish me?” 

Jaenelle stuck her tongue out at him, and then hesitated. She bit her lip and shifted her feet a little. “Are you sure you want to do this today? We don’t have to. If you’re still tired-”

“I’m not tired. Don’t you dare try to put this off.” Lucivar narrowed his eyes. “I know you’re just scared.”

Jaenelle’s expression flashed suddenly fierce, her lips pressing together and eyes narrowing. “I’m not scared. Don’t be stupid.” 

“I’m never stupid,” Lucivar said, with all the arrogance he didn’t quite feel. Not just yet. He stretched his wings, though, felt the sweet pull of the muscles in his back, and got a little closer to it. 

“Mmhm.” Jaenelle crossed her arms. “Never.”

“Never,” he agreed, solemnly. 

“So the wrestling match with Kaelas-”

“Perfectly under control.”

“And mistaking my spell for something edible-”

“Understandable mistake,” Lucivar said. Jaenelle narrowed her eyes, and he had a sudden sinking feeling. 

“And plunging through the Khaldaron Run with your wings a wreck and not even making the barest attempt to stay alive?” 

Damn. When she got that tone – it was very difficult not to cringe. _Steady, boyo._ “All right. One stupid thing.” _I thought you were dead. I was dying anyway, or if I’d lived without my wings…there was nothing left. I thought._

_You gave me my life back, twice over._

He knew better than to say that. They’d had this conversation once before, and that time he’d made the mistake of mentioning that line of thought. She’d gotten abruptly very teary-eyed and beaten him around the head with a book.

“ _Never! Never say that, you do not just_ die _because I’m not there, you live, you live and keep living, promise me,_ promise me!”

He’d scared her. He hadn’t thought about it until later, but he must have. Jaenelle had said herself that she hadn’t been sure for a while if he was going to survive. And Jaenelle was…Jaenelle. With all her heart and all her love-

_So much more than we ever imagined, Sadi._

“One _very_ stupid thing,” Jaenelle said. “One _very_ stupid thing you are never doing again.” Lucivar had not seen a more fearsome glare on fully grown witches. "And I _am_ watching you.”

_As long as you’re watching me I’d never think of it._ “One very stupid thing I am never doing again,” Lucivar parroted, as meekly as he could manage. “You _did_ make me promise.”

“ _Most_ solemnly,” Jaenelle said, but her expression finally began to relax. “Lucivar…are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“If you come with me I will get horribly distracted trying to keep an eye on you, and then where will we be.” And if this didn’t work, if he failed – maybe it was stupid, but he didn’t want her there. Whether he didn’t want her to see him hurt or didn’t want her to see him fail…it was maybe a little of both. 

Jaenelle’s mouth turned downwards in the smallest of frowns. “You know, I _can_ take care of myself.”

“Maybe,” Lucivar said, and she stuck out her tongue at him. “Miss ‘I forgot to eat lunch because I was busy’-”

“ _One time,_ ” Jaenelle protested. 

“Once is enough.” Lucivar stretched his wings again. “More than enough, really. Most people don’t just forget to eat, Cat. That’s why we get hungry.” 

“Just because you can eat half your body weight in meat right now,” Jaenelle said, almost hotly, and then cut herself off and just glared, blue eyes fierce. _Cat,_ he thought, remembering when he’d first seen her, something like a dream, that ridiculously curled hair and wide eyes. She’d hardened. Lost that childish softness, not just physically. 

_If you could see her…_

He pushed that thought away. 

Jaenelle’s eyes narrowed. “Are you stalling?” 

“No.” Maybe a little. He’d done this run so many times. He rolled his shoulders back and stretched his wings wide. It felt good, the motion smooth and easy with no resistance or hesitation. 

He took a deep breath, feeling the air currents, the swirling convergence of power. The Winds strong enough to rip apart the unwary, and that was what made it _fun._

Jaenelle’s touch was very light on his arm. “You can wait,” she said, softly. “If you want to wait. I’m not going to think any less of you.”

“I came here to make the Khaldaron Run,” Lucivar said, voice coming out flatter than he wanted it. “And I’m going to make the damn Run.” Jaenelle’s fingers squeezed his arm once, and then she went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek with a kind of unexpected, warm affection. 

“Then you’ll make it.”

“I’d damn well better,” Lucivar said, perhaps a little too fervently. He took a step forward and spread his wings. “See you on the other side, Cat.”

“In one piece,” Jaenelle added, sternly, and Lucivar threw her a grin. 

“Less a limb or two,” he said, just to make her frown. 

“Be _safe,_ ” she said, passionately strident, and Lucivar paused a moment longer to reach over and ruffle her hair. 

“I’m never safe,” he assured her, stepped forward, and took the plunge.

* * *

The last time he’d taken this flight, he’d meant to die, to vanish into the Darkness leaving not even a flicker behind. He’d sentenced his brother to live, taken flight on his rotten wings and embraced the death that he’d fought against all his brutal life. 

His hope had been dead. He had believed, well and truly, that there was nothing left. 

And now, as the Winds caught him up again and tugged in every direction…

_She gave you back more than your wings, boyo._

For one dizzying headrush moment, he thought it wasn’t going to work, that he was going to break himself on the rocks that could rip the unwary to shreds, and then he was flying. Taking the twisting, bending turns of the Run as easily as he ever had, feeling the Winds and the winds catch at him and weaving in and out of their pull to keep himself steady. The cold air burned in his lungs, the wind stung in his nostrils and caught in his hair and he felt the life flood back into him like a deep breath. Clearing his head, dashing away his doubts and uncertainties, wiping him clean until the only thing on his mind was this, here, now. 

Survival. And the flight. 

_For the glory of Witch,_ he thought giddily, and opened his throat to whoop both joy and challenge to the sky.

* * *

“I’m out of shape,” he said, sprawling on the grass and breathing hard. Unscathed, not even a scratch. The muscles of his back ached, but it was a clean kind of pain, the sort he could almost savor. An ache he’d feel more tomorrow, perhaps.

“I’m not surprised,” said Jaenelle, sprawled equally limp beside him. He reached out to swipe halfheartedly in her direction. “But you feel all right?” 

“Well,” Lucivar said, and then almost laughed. “Better than. I feel like…myself.”

“I should hope you didn’t feel like someone else,” Jaenelle said, tartly, but then she sat up and Lucivar could see her face, her smile full of relief and pleasure. He groaned. 

“You know what I meant.” 

“I do?”

“You know what happens to deliberately obtuse witches,” Lucivar said, lazily. Jaenelle looked suspicious. 

“Something happens to deliberately obtuse witches?” 

“Oh yes. It’s written down in all the rule books. You can check me on that. Strictest punishment. Come a little closer and I’ll tell you.” 

Jaenelle’s eyes narrowed a fraction, but she proved unable to resist her curiosity, and edged a little closer. Lucivar pounced, grabbing her and pulling her down to tickle ferociously at her sides. “They get tickled!” 

Jaenelle squirmed and thrashed, laughing helplessly. “Hey, hey hey hey! That’s not a rule, you just made that up-”

He let her go after she elbowed him in the ribs, kicking feet coming unnervingly close to places he didn’t want them. She scrambled to her feet, hair disheveled and half crouched, looking like nothing so much as a little blonde cat, about to bare her teeth and hiss at him. He laughed, dropping his head back down to the grass. 

“What are you laughing about?” she demanded. Lucivar shook his head. 

“You, Cat. You’re…glorious.” 

He could almost hear her eyes narrow. “I’m not coming in closer. Are you ticklish?”

“You can try.” He thought of a hundred hundred Winsols in Terreille, the formal dancing, the drunken witches with their wandering hands, the solemn profession of glory to Witch, to the Darkness, when all he could soothe himself with was imagining Her, terrible and powerful, the embodiment of the Darkness come to destroy them all in a sea of blood. 

And this…

“I’m not falling for that one,” Jaenelle said fiercely. She lowered her voice. “I will have my revenge, Prince. Know that.”

No, this was better. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He stretched, lazily. “Don’t you know I’m always watching? Constant state of alertness. That’s what it means to be an Eyrien.”

“Oh,” Jaenelle said tartly, “So you’re just _pretending_ to snore.” 

“Damn right.” Lucivar closed his eyes and affected a loud, droning snore. 

“I will get Kaelas to sit on you again.” 

Lucivar opened his eyes and gave her an injured look. “And make more work for yourself mending my inevitably broken ribs?” 

Yeah, this was better than seas of blood. The sun shining down and Jaenelle brightly alive. _The Darkness isn’t just judgment. It’s mercy too._ Daemon, he thought, would think so too.

_Oh, Daemon. If you were here…_

He couldn’t. Not just now. 

Shoving himself to a sitting position, Lucivar rubbed his eyes. “And now you’ve reminded me by mentioning Kaelas. Now that I’m all in one piece…when do I get to meet these other friends of yours? The ones on two legs.” 

Jaenelle fell still. She’d turned, perhaps spinning around, and her back was to him. She was silent for a few moments, and then said, “I wasn’t sure you’d want to meet them.”

“I want to meet them,” Lucivar said. “They’re your friends. Why wouldn’t I?”

Jaenelle turned, after a moment, biting her lip. “…a lot of them are witches,” she said, slowly. “And I know…I know you don’t really like…” She trailed off and looked away. Lucivar felt a flood of shame and pushed it down, but his voice came out harsh.

“Are any of them going to want me on my back for them?” 

“What? No!” Jaenelle sounded appalled. “No, no, they won’t even – no! Karla will probably flirt with you but she does that to everyone – I mean _everyone_ – and she doesn’t mean anything by it.”

“Then I won’t have a problem,” Lucivar said, keeping his voice as calm as he could. “You trust them. Don’t you?”

“With my life,” Jaenelle said, at once, and Lucivar tried not to ache that she probably wasn’t speaking in hyperbole, that she probably truly knew what it was to rest her life in someone’s hands, her safety hanging by a thread. (Never again. Keep her safe, Prince.)

“And I trust you. So I trust them, and I want to meet them. Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?” He’d thought that had come out as a joke, but the look Jaenelle shot him was suddenly sharp. 

“No,” she said, with fierce clarity. “You could never embarrass me.”

“Don’t say that too soon,” he said, and then stood up and padded over, reached out to take her hands. Small hands, he noticed. But callused. Strong. “So when can I meet them?”

Jaenelle was looking at him like she was considering something. Whatever she saw, it didn’t seem to displease, and slowly she started to smile. “Whenever you like,” she said. 

Lucivar blinked a little. “Whenever?” He’d expected…he didn’t know what he’d expected. More than that. More fanfare, maybe. These were Territory Queens, from his understanding, and their Consorts. 

But this was, he mused, Jaenelle. 

“Mmhm. They’ve been asking about you forever. Wanting to know how you were and when they were going to see you.” Her smile got a little more sure, her hands giving his a small squeeze. “You’ll like them. Especially Karla. You and Karla will get along splendidly, I think. Khardeen gets along with everyone, and I bet even Chaosti and Aaron…”

_Anything,_ he remembered Daemon and he swearing to each other. _I’d do anything she asked. For the glory of Witch._ Could they have imagined this?

_And all she wants is us. Ourselves._

_Ah, Sadi, I wish you were here to see this._


End file.
